Stories For Adult Novels & Stories

She was suddenly aware of how shabby her jeans and simple sweater looked in this opulent space. "It's okay. Call me Damon." He gestured to the leather sofa. Ara sat, clutching her bag like a shield. Damon remained standing, studying her. “I’ve read every book you’ve written,” he stated. “All twenty-three. Your imagination is… exceptional. Filthy. Creative. It's a shame you've landed in this current situation.” Hearing a stranger acknowledge her erotic work so bluntly made her stomach twist.

"She's legal, though?" "If she wasn't, would you have stopped?" Silence drops like a curtain, finally giving me my chance to interject. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here." I reach for my silk pajama slip and tug it over my head. "I'm an adult. I can speak for myself." "You're only an adult on paper," spits my stepfather. "In real life, you're a daydreaming baby who can't walk two feet without tripping into a ditch. Is that what happened here? She tripped and her mouth landed on your—"

After that encounter, I tried desperately to avoid him. Lucky for me, he hadn’t summoned me again right away. I sat alone, trying to plan my way out of this predicament. I already had my future mapped out. Work until I was twenty-five. Find a matchmaker. Marry a human man. Have children. Live a quiet, safe life. King Baldwin was not part of that plan. I had never accounted for an obsessive king who seemed determined to pull me into his bed.

“One drink. And you stay close to me. No wandering off.” Relief flooded through me as well as something much more dangerous than that. “Thank you.” I’d told my best friend I was exploring for the night. I was supposed to give her the details after I was back, but how could I tell her I met her father at a BDSM club and told him to show me around?

In his apartment, Rick runs to his computer, dragging the chair quickly. He sits down and, looking at the blank page that haunted him, quickly begins to write. ‘As a critic of eroges, I have played dozens, hundreds, and I could even say that counting the small freelance jobs, I would easily reach a thousand. And in all of them, I have seen and done everything. I have seen good stories with poorly drawn characters and mediocre stories whose characters have great designs. I’ve seen nothing flashy projects that end up becoming little hidden gems for fans of this genre called for perverts.’

Liora Vale had always loved the quiet. At twenty-one, she worked the night shift at the old city library. Most people thought the job was boring, but Liora loved being alone with the books after midnight. The tall shelves felt like old friends. One rainy night, while sorting the rare books section, she found a strange leather book hidden behind others. It had no title. When she opened it, the pages glowed softly. Words appeared. Choose a story. Bring him to life. One night only.

But no one knows about the other side of me. At night, when the house is quiet, I hide under my covers with my phone and read the kind of stories that would make my mother faint. Dark. Filthy. Full of dominant men who take what they want. Girls who beg for it. Degradation that makes my thighs press together and my heart race. I touch myself to those stories, whispering things I would never say out loud, and then feel crushing guilt the next morning. I’m supposed to be pure. Innocent. The perfect daughter.

My fingers were cramping, my thesaurus was smoking, and I kept picturing my editor sending me an email with only one word: "Seriously?" I realized: I should just end it here, gloriously, before I completely lose my mind, break my keyboard, and start writing about the wallpaper pattern instead. Speaking of losing my mind... I pulled out my notes the other day. When I started outlining this story and figuring out the twists and turns, I came up with almost 60... maybe 50-something... different plot points and outlines just to keep the momentum going. Sixty! Fifty! I lost count! That's how dedicated I was to not making this story boring. That’s like a novella’s worth of rejected ideas!

“I didn’t think you liked silence.” “I don’t,” he said, eyes lingering on her. “Not unless someone else fills it.” Her breath caught again. There was something dangerous in the gentleness of his gaze. Before the moment could grow too heavy, Adrian cleared his throat and reached for a thin, leather-bound journal. “Here. This is one of my favorites.” She accepted it carefully, opening to the first page. The handwriting was elegant, old, yet readable. “It’s a collection of old pack stories,” he explained. “Legends. Myths. Things we tell children… and some truths we hide in metaphors.”

Ch-1 --------------------- [Father forces son to be star in his adult film; mom inserts herself into film; they become a couple. Mom has primordial fight with another actress for right to do sex scene with son. Mom and son end up with studio after divorce. Father doesn't fare as well.]